by Sahara Kelly
"I'm observant. That heart-shaped ass never has a panty line anywhere near it." He shook his head and managed a laugh. "Just making a joke."
Dave wasn't to know that Phil had actually seen Casey at the mall a few months ago, when he had taken his mother shopping. They weren't in the same lingerie store, thank God, but the one next door with all the makeup on sale. So he'd peeked through the window and watched his idol pick through racks of tiny bits of lace and silk. It was a helluva lot better than watching his mom put blush on her face in seven different tones of red.
He wasn't sure what it was in Casey, other than the obvious physical attraction, that drew him to her. He still had no clue what had blindsided him with such ferocity when he'd first set eyes on her. But she continued to intrigue him. He could sense the mystery of her vulnerable side, something lurking beneath her polished surface, that he knew needed to be freed.
One day he'd do exactly that, and one day she'd see him for the man he was. Actually he hoped she would see him for more than that, more than just a date, more than just a co-worker.
He knew in his heart that the one thing he wanted in Casey…was him.
Chapter Two
Casey walked in to her apartment and automatically tossed her keys onto the counter beside the phone. Without thinking about it, she hit the message button and ignored the voices of an array of salespeople offering something she didn't need. Then came her mother's regular long-winded message asking about everything. Twice. True to form, and being that kind of parent, the woman ran out of time during the first call and had to repeat herself, finally finishing with more unimportant jabbering.
It was a routine sequence of actions Casey repeated each evening when she got home. There were work hours and non-work hours and keeping the two separate was effective and preferable. The fact that she had practically nothing in the way of a personal life was her business and nobody else's. The implications at work were that she was involved with someone, and it certainly kept the men from bugging her. Solitary at times, yes, but much more peaceful than fending off unwanted invitations on a daily basis.
As she kicked off her shoes and absently put them in their appropriate place with the rest of her footwear in the large closet, her drifting thoughts of work and men raised an image.
Phil Cooper.
For some reason Phil was different. Sure, he stared at her a lot, drooled noisily when she bent over and made extra trips to get coffee or anything else she needed or wanted. He was, to use a romance novel word, smitten. Or at least she thought so.
With a grin she remembered how thoughtful it was that he did so many little things for her, and pretty much anything she asked. Particularly picking up those mini blueberry muffins she liked so much from the coffee vendor in the lobby.
Of course she'd noticed him. He was kind, sweet, very attentive and always good-tempered. She'd never seen him angry or behaving like an asshole. So really, what wasn't to like?
Joan from reception had talked about him constantly when they began to date, and said Phil was her perfect man. She was going to hook him before he got away. Apparently she'd suffered an epic fail in her quest, because it was obvious they were no longer a couple.
Phil seemed just fine with that. But Joan was still having hissy-bitch fits even though the actual pity-party had been held a few months ago right after the breakup.
Casey didn't know Joan that well, and tried to ignore the gossip as it swirled around her. It was, of course, simple human nature to be curious about Phil's sexual prowess, but she had failed to find out anything and didn't feel it was appropriate to ask.
Joan had her own clique of girlfriends, and since Casey wasn't particularly into shoes, makeup or clubbing, there was little in the way of exchanged girlish confidences.
It didn't bother Casey one bit, since even though he'd been dating Joan, Phil's attentions hadn't changed in frequency. In some ways she felt guilty that she used Phil to run errands or get coffee. But she couldn't see how such little things could have disrupted a solid dating relationship. If, in fact, it had been solid to begin with.
So she offered her conscience that small sop and gave herself a mental bitch-slap for being girly enough to think Phil's sweet charm was cute. Followed by another double-bitch-slap when she realized it made her feel all tingly, like she was back in high school.
He certainly wasn't hard on the eyes. His clothes fit his body admirably, whether casual Friday attire or not. He could fill out a suit better than most men, and she'd already fielded a few questions from her co-workers about sharing her devoted minion. All in good fun, of course. He wasn't her minion or anything else, just a nice guy who liked to make women smile.
Nobody knew that beneath the professional veneer, Casey had no wish for a man, sweet, charming, good-looking or otherwise.
She grabbed the closest container from her neatly organized fridge and slipped out of her work clothes as the meal was heating. Afterward, there were some projects she wanted to review and that would kill most of her evening.
It wasn't unpleasant or dull drudgery—there was a glass of her favorite wine beside her couch and she was encased in the comfort of her soft robe. The mellow sounds of her new Lady Antebellum CD hummed from her sound system. Most of the time she didn't bother turning on her television, but now and again she'd indulge in a movie or get caught up with some of those guilty pleasure shows she'd set the DVR to record.
Tonight, though, was for some uninterrupted focus work, and it was with a satisfied sigh that she closed the last folder and saved the file after a couple of productive hours with her laptop.
She stretched, realizing it was getting late. The possibility of a shower loomed, but a bath would be even more enticing. Then there was the question of did she really want to wait until it filled?
Draining her wine, she turned off the lights in the living room and walked into her bedroom. It was dark, lit only by the glow of the night-light plugged in by her door.
Gentle rays of silver dusted the curves of her body as she unfastened her robe and stood next to the full-length mirror on the wall trying to decide what to do.
Her own reflection caught her eye and she turned, knowing what she would see, but intrigued by the muted traces of light dancing on her skin. She had ample curves; a woman's body with the dips and valleys that whispered of sensual interludes and the pleasures of a man's touch caressing them.
She licked the taste of wine from her lips, wondering at the sudden shiver of need that tightened her nipples into hard buds.
A vision of Phil Cooper darted through her mind, following on the heels of her sudden sexual awareness. If he was there right now…
But he wasn't.
She was—as she had been for going on four years now—alone.
Moving to the nightstand, she took a worn photo album from the drawer. It was filled with photos taken the year after she graduated from college.
Casey smiled as she touched the photos, not needing light to know what was there. She felt a familiar crease in the paper and stopped. Beneath her fingertips was the reason she was still alone.
If she turned on the light, she knew what she would see. Dark hair, rugged, a short beard surrounded by a day's worth of stubble, and rippling muscles beneath his open shirt. The term beefcake fit him to a T, but she'd always been drawn to his eyes. Sure, the smoking hot body was a benefit she'd appreciated many times. But it was the way he looked at her that had captured her, body and soul.
His cool blue eyes pierced her heart, stirring the fire within her and making her wet, aching inside. Just thinking of him made a shudder of desire roil low in her belly and between her legs. As if the passion from all their nights together could still melt her flesh and arouse her like some kind of psychic foreplay,
Photos were all she had left of the man who had changed her life forever.
His name was Dominic.
*~*~*~*
Her body had trembled at his touch. Always. One look and he could
strip her inhibitions away as easily as he stripped her from her panties. His hands were softer than she expected and they brushed against her skin as if they knew exactly where she needed them most.
Her spine shuddered at the bolts of inner lightning that screamed from his fingertips as they slowly traced the inner creases of slick flesh between her legs. A sound, a moan—familiar yet strange—and his caress changed from the soft strokes to a firmer pressure on her clit. She could feel it swelling more and more with her growing arousal.
Casey fell back onto her bed as memories crashed through her mind with the force of a tsunami. She surrendered, drowning willingly in the clearly remembered sensations invoked by the mere mention of his name, her body already turning liquid with yearning.
She found herself pressing into the mattress, her hips lifting to meet the invading fingers she knew would stroke around the opening of her pussy.
Oh fuck, oh shit…
She would beg for a release from the torment that had been building within her. He loved to hear her beg, to whimper, to implore him to have mercy on her even as she lifted herself into his touch. He teased her; sometimes leaving her completely for a few moments, bereft and craving everything he could give her, and more.
He was the first man she knew who could touch her so effectively, so familiarly. It was as if he had watched and made notes as she touched herself. That skill had made it all so much more intense.
Her breasts ached for his caress every bit as much as her clit. Need clawed at her and she sighed as a finger slipped within. He had known exactly when and how to tease her.
Even with her eyes closed she could tell when he was staring at her pussy. Her inner thighs tingled at the recollection of his hot breath against them and she quivered, as if his lips had kissed her pubis. They had both loved this, the foreplay, the climb toward the ultimate delight. If he hadn't shaved, his stubble would tug erotically against her skin as he rubbed his face against her.
Casey felt the initial wave of her orgasm strengthen as her fingers took the place of Dominic's, and her palm replaced his hungry mouth. So close now…so close.
If he'd been here, she would have looked down her body to see his thick hair moving between her parted thighs.
He'd have smiled, a wicked and sensual grin. And he'd have said something outrageous, just to add to the heat. "Mmm. You taste fucking hot. Enough with the finger food. I want to eat the whole fucking buffet." Even as her body throbbed, she smiled at the thought of how much fun they'd had.
And yet—now it was harder to remember the sound of his voice. She wanted to stop for a second, to pull it back to her, to share this moment with his memory.
But her mind quickly began to spin, her blood pulsing through her body and arrowing down toward her heated center. Her clit was swollen, throbbing with excitement and within moments the storm was upon her.
She rode the wave, her legs rigid, panting as she fought for breath. Pressing hard on her sex, she shuddered through the release, letting her body take her where it wanted to go.
Finally, it subsided, leaving her pleasantly sated and listening to the pounding of her heart as it slowed.
Memories of Dominic always brought this kind of warmth with them. He'd been the only man who could ever make her so insane with desire she'd do anything and everything he wanted. They had been true mates, resonating on a variety of levels, including the physical. Especially the physical.
And it had only been slightly more than four years since she'd lost him.
There had been dates since then, of course. But only that. Dates. She'd never felt interested enough to go any further, no matter how pleasant the evening had been.
None of the men she'd spent time with had stirred that something inside her that Dominic had owned from the moment they met. Even thinking about sex with another man had seemed wrong at first, then simply too much bother. They weren't her lost lover, so surely the evening would be a bust. Better no sex at all than an awkward experience.
Logically she knew it was all part of the grieving process and that eventually the guilt and sadness would fade enough for her to open doors again and let someone inside. Both physically and metaphorically.
Casey let her thoughts wander as she lay, relaxed, on her bed. She was still alive, a woman with a good job, a not-unattractive body, and overall a pretty healthy interest in sex.
She'd had one amazing passion in her life and he'd gone. Through no fault of his own, he was hers no longer. A climbing trip with his friends in Colorado, a sudden storm, and two young men were gone, disappearing forever on the side of a mountain, torn from their team by a vicious whim of nature. That freak snowfall had robbed her of a potential future filled with everything she'd ever dreamed of.
Overcoming such pain had taken more from her than she could have guessed, but perhaps now her period of mourning might be coming to its natural conclusion. It had been so hard, knowing a flower would never mark his last resting place, nor could she go and say her own farewells. But she knew that time was helping her come to terms with it.
Now and again, when the wind blew toward the horizon, she would whisper goodbye. And pray he heard.
She could think of Dominic more often without as much grief. The laughter and joy they'd shared was replacing the agony of his loss. It was slow, but it was happening.
She straightened the covers and slipped beneath them, grimacing as her thighs slid stickily against each other. Shrugging, she shifted into a more comfortable position.
As sleep claimed her, a random thought darted through her mind. If she looked down between her thighs now, she could imagine another face there. Which was very surprising.
Even more surprising?
The face belonged to Phil Cooper.
Chapter Three
Phil sat quietly at his desk playing his favorite online game and trying not to get caught. An incoming email pinged its arrival, so he closed the game screen and opened his account. To his surprise, the sender was C. Andrews.
Casey.
His hopes soaring, he clicked the 'open mail' button. Maybe this was the big one, the one where she confirmed her dark sexual need for him. Where she explained in great detail all the perverse sexual things she wanted him to do to her because she had finally realized he was the only man that could truly satisfy her. Hopefully she'd provide photos for instruction.
Or maybe, although the rumors about his immense penis size were too much for some women, she was willing to let him stretch her out. Of course that was just wishful thinking, but there wasn't a damn thing wrong with dreams.
His dreams disintegrated as he read the email in its entirety.
Crap…she's sent it to me by accident.
It was addressed to PCoop and Phil could instantly see where the error had occurred. The client she'd intended it for was Potomac Cooperative Industries, a large organization looking into property in Maryland. Their email address was PCoopInd. All it took was one click and the email software would pull up both addresses. Way too easy to pick the wrong one as recipient.
Then he took a closer look at the contents.
He sucked in air between his lips as he realized what he was seeing. Casey had done more than hit the wrong button. She'd sent an estimate to the Acquisitions Manager that was off by a factor of at least a hundred. Sure, people messed up. He'd done it himself a time or two.
But an error like this could cost the company several hundred thousand dollars.
He thought for a few minutes about exactly how to handle it. But there was really no question in his mind. Within seconds his fingers were busy on his keyboard, replying to her and highlighting the problem he'd caught.
He made sure she understood that people make mistakes all the time, nobody was perfect and it was a good thing he saw it first, since he was sending it right back to her without any comments to anyone else. No harm, no foul.
And maybe make a few brownie points with her.
Okay, that was kind of a low an
d sleazy thought. But overall he was doing a colleague a good turn. Where was the harm in that?
Time passed, the minutes turned into half an hour, and Phil was lost in the seventh level of his game, about to surpass his personal high for destroying useless furious critters.
"Hey, Phil."
Casey stood by Phil's cubicle, smiling politely. He fumbled his pen and reached down to pick it up, slowing as the vision of her black stilettos led upward to the curved line of her legs. They disappeared beneath the black skirt that clung tightly around her hips.
He managed to cover his sigh of appreciation, even when he noticed the top button of her white blouse was undone. The soft skin over her throat beckoned him.
His mouth watered. A fantasy conversation screamed through his head. Hey Casey. Why don't we get out of here and I can eat that sweet pussy for lunch then stuff you with the foot-long hotdog I have in my pants.
Fortunately, he was still sane enough to know the difference between fantasy and reality. He settled for a simple "Hey Casey."
She took a breath. "I want to thank you for catching that mistake I made. It could have been a real screw-up on my part. And I really appreciate your not saying anything."
"No problem. We work together. I wouldn't want you getting into trouble if it could be avoided. That's what friends do—look out for each other."
She bit her lip, looking a little embarrassed. "I've made a few mistakes like that lately. I know it's because I'm so swamped, but that doesn't excuse anything. Whoever handled some of these accounts before me hadn't ever heard of accurate documentation." She shrugged away the annoyance.
Phil watched her, seeing the color in her cheeks, knowing that this must be a difficult conversation for someone so reticent to share anything resembling emotions.
"I got a mess of paperwork dumped in my lap right before I lost my assistant to maternity leave. And now I worry that things like this are going to get past me. Fortunately, my mis-directed email went to the right person after all. You." Playfully, she cocked a finger and pointed it at him. "So I wanted to thank you, and let you know I owe you one."